


Time Enough

by Nordlaw



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post Season 3, memories of tiny jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14991296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nordlaw/pseuds/Nordlaw
Summary: Walter could see a dim light glowing from the direction of her room but had come too far to stop now. He reached the landing and saw her, framed in her bedroom doorway, sitting on the bed and crying silently into her hands.“Oh, Barbara,” he breathed, without thinking.





	Time Enough

Walter Strickler was uncomfortably awake. 

It was late, hours after he had first lay down to sleep, and all was quiet in the living room of the Lake house. Sighing, he tried once again to find a comfortable position on the couch. It was much too short for his lanky frame and too narrow. He consoled himself with the fact he had slept in much worse conditions over the long years of his life. And, truth be told, he was grateful Barbara had let him have any bed at all.

The pillow was lumpy, but the quilt she had loaned him made up for it. He pulled it up a little closer to his face, inhaling the subtle scent of her. 

And then he heard something. He had already become accustomed to the sounds of the house and cataloged them – the sound the refrigerator made as it cycled on, the upstairs toilet running briefly twice an hour. This was something different. It was soft, concealed, organic in nature. Instincts long honed made him rise silently to his bare feet, searching for the source. Intellectually, he knew the greatest danger was long gone. Gunmar was dead, Morgana was gone. But he hadn’t made it this long by discounting instinct.

He crept to the front of the house and became still. Seconds ticked by and he heard it again, coming from upstairs. It was probably just Barbara, then. All was fine. _But what if it’s not? What if something is coming for her?_ It would take only a moment to go check on her, to reassure himself. He swiftly climbed the stairs, keeping to the outside of each to minimize noise. 

Before he got to the top, he could see a dim light glowing from the direction of her room, but he had come too far to stop now. He reached the landing and saw her, framed in her bedroom doorway, sitting on the bed and crying silently into her hands.

“Oh, Barbara,” he breathed, without thinking. 

Her head jerked up, eyes wide. Something slid off her lap and landed on the floor with a dull thud. 

“Walt,” she said, hurriedly scrubbing at her eyes. “I thought you were asleep.”

The scrubbing hadn’t done much good. Her eyes were red and swollen. There were still tears on her cheeks. She looked so small, so sad and vulnerable that he had crossed the distance between them before he had a chance to ask himself if this was a good idea. He was suddenly standing in her bedroom and his foot nudged up against whatever she had dropped.

Walter reached down to pick it up, but what he saw made him pause. It was a book, open to a picture of a tiny, brown haired boy in a baseball jersey just a little too big for him with a wide grin on his face. The picture beside it was of the same small boy standing proudly next to a block tower taller than he was. The one on the next page showed him blowing out six candles on a birthday cake. 

He picked up the book and reverently placed it on Barbara’s lap, feeling profane for intruding on such things. “I thought I heard a noise. I’ll…just be going.” He turned to go and stopped in surprise as she caught his hand. 

“Stay.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but her hand guided him to the spot on the bed next to her. Walter tried to gauge whether he actually had permission to sit down near her so…intimately. He slowly eased himself on to her floral comforter at what he hoped was a respectful difference. She was still holding his hand.

Barbara’s free hand wiped at her eyes again. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said, looking down at her lap, absently stroking the birthday picture. “I couldn’t sleep, and then…I just…” A tear fell onto the plastic coated page. 

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to stroke her hair and lie to her that everything would be all right. He wanted to ease her sadness in any way he could. But he also knew that showy displays of affection were not what was needed now. She was strong. She didn’t need him to fight her battles, no matter how much he wanted. 

So he called upon a lifetime of experience and counseled himself to patience. And there they sat, for many moments. The warmth of their clasped hands. The sound of her sniffles and his steady breathing. Waiting for whatever she needed from him.

“I just thought…there would be more time.” She began turning pages in the album. More photos of young Jim stared back at them. First day of school photos, candid backyard photos, vacation photos. “You know,” she said, stopping on a particular page, “this is one of my favorite memories.”

Her finger tapped a photo halfway down the right-side page. Jim was older than in the previous pictures, but still quite young. He was covered head to toe in paint splatters and red faced from crying. Next to him was a chubby boy in the same state, probably a young Toby.

“Jim was at his elementary school carnival and had his heart set on winning the raffle for two passes to play paintball. This was in…second grade, I think. I had given him $20 to spend on whatever he wanted. You know, cotton candy, games, slushies. All he did with the money was buy 20 raffle tickets, put them all on the paintball prize, and he actually won.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “He was over the moon! I warned him it might not be as much fun as he thought it would be, but you can’t change the mind of an eight year old.” Her half-smile fell. “Which isn’t much different from a teenager, come to think of it.”

Not wanting her to follow that particular train of thought, Walter squeezed her hand and prompted, “So the experience didn’t live up to his expectations?”

“No. They didn’t believe me when I said they should wear layers, otherwise paintballs can hurt when they hit. The first time Toby got shot in the arm, he started crying and Jim told him to stop being a baby. And then an older kid hit Jim right in the chest.” Barbara smiled, sadly. “I should have felt bad, but after all the grief Jim gave me about my warnings, I couldn’t help it. I was laughing, the kids were crying, and I took a picture to capture the ‘I told you so’ moment.” Her smile slowly fell as she finished speaking. She was staring through the picture, lost in thoughts and memories where he couldn’t follow.

Barbara suddenly let go of his hand. Assuming she was about to ask him to leave, Walter was instead intensely surprised to find her moving closer to him. Their hips almost touching, her arm brushed against his own as she turned back pages to the front of the book. There were only two pictures on this first page. One was of a baby, swaddled tightly in a blue blanket with a white hat, eyes tightly closed. The other was of Barbara sitting in a hospital bed, younger, visibly exhausted, but with a triumphant smile on her face as she cradled her new son. 

“You look absolutely radiant,” Walter found himself saying.

Barbara snorted softly. “I look exactly like someone who had been in labor for 18 hours.” Her finger rested on the infant Jim’s cheek. “This was where everything started. Seeing him, holding him for the first time. It was so amazing to know that this was the beginning of a whole new story. To dream, to imagine what he would do, what he would be like. The potential and the promise, all in this little face.”

With one last caress of the photo, she gently closed the book, resting her hand on the cover. 

“I knew he would leave someday,” she said softly. “I knew after high school, everything would change. But there was still time. Time to just be together. Time to make more memories. Time for me to be a better mom.” Her voice cracked as fresh tears started to fall. “And it’s gone. It’s all gone. He’s gone, Walt,” she sobbed.

He had thought he had seen her fall apart before, assumed he had already seen the depth of her grief. In this moment, she was no longer holding back. She keened, the noise wild and raw, carrying on until she ran out of breath, only to inhale and begin again. Her body rocked back and forth, and he found himself steading her with a hand on her back in a pathetic attempt to console. 

And there they sat for many minutes, until her sobs began to lessen in intensity. Tears were still falling, but she was growing quiet, slowly regaining her composure. And then all was quiet again.

Barbara wiped her face without looking up. Giving a deep sigh, she hoarsely said, “Didn’t mean to introduce you to the crazy me tonight. I was saving that one for a special occasion.” She was deflecting with humor. Good. This was familiar ground.

“THAT was Crazy Barbara? I assumed she was the one that kept brandishing her broom at everyone and blended goblins.”

“That was Awesome Barbara. I’m a very complicated person,” she said, wiping her nose again.

“Where do you keep your tissues?” 

“Bathroom. Back of the toilet.”

He returned with the entire box, giving her a moment to blow her nose and finally wipe her face dry. 

“I probably should have done that a long time ago,” she said.

“Blow your nose?” 

“No. Just…let it all out.”

He had seen how desperately she was holding herself together for everyone else. Barbara was a natural leader – people were drawn to her and looked to her for direction. She had been the voice of encouragement, of reason, of thoughtful plans and the pressure had been mounting. No longer just a doctor, she was the mother of Arcadia Oaks’ savior and a leader in this new, uncertain time. She needed someone who would let her fall apart. And maybe, just maybe, it would be him.

Walter softly placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up, surprised at his touch. “You may not believe this now, but I know you have done an excellent job with Jim. He gets his strength, his courage, and most importantly, his heart from you. You raised someone who became the hero of two worlds. He may have left to fulfill his duties, but he will never stop loving you.” _Just as I won’t_ , he added, silently.

Barbara brought her own hand up to cover his. Hope thrummed through him and he could swear she was gazing at him with more warmth than she had before. Better to leave before he ruined this.

Removing his hand, he prepared to make his exit. “I should let you get some rest. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Part of him foolishly hoped she would call out to him again or stop him from leaving, but he had already reached the door, so he settled for a heartfelt, “Goodnight, Barbara.”

“Goodnight, Walt,” she replied as he closed her bedroom door behind him. 

He headed back to the couch, thoughtful. Life never quite turned out how you anticipated it. Where Barbara grieved for what could have been, he was living a life he never could have imagined. Free of Gunmar, free of ambition, free from self-preservation at all cost. Knowing Jim had changed him, too. Shown him there was life and purpose beyond what had driven him all his life. That love and redemption could apply to him, too. 

He wasn’t forgiven, not completely. But tonight was a glimmer of hope. Tomorrow, he would continue to do his best to show her the change her affections had wrought in him. And the day after that. Even though the future wasn’t certain, he wasn’t going anywhere. He was patient and had nothing but time.


End file.
